


oh, let's get carried away

by dayevsphil



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, Humor, M/M, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21846511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayevsphil/pseuds/dayevsphil
Summary: Surely, this is the start of a punchline: an awkward gay idiot with nothing to lose but his pride, sitting in Starbucks and waiting for his Reddit-assigned fake boyfriend to roll in and introduce himself.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 46
Kudos: 262
Collections: Phandom Fic Fests Holiday Exchange 2019





	oh, let's get carried away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaibrynM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaibrynM/gifts).



> happy holidays, caibrynm! i hope you like my take on one of your prompts <3

It starts, like most things in Phil's life have, with Martyn getting tired of his complaining. That's how he got his own room as a kid, how he moved to London not far behind his brother, how he was convinced to take a job he didn't think he'd be good at - Martyn, fed up, telling him to get over it and do it.

“Here's the thing,” Phil is saying for probably the fifth time since he sat down in this booth with Martyn. “I like being single.”

“Uh huh,” Martyn says. He seems to be resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and he's been doing something on his phone for half their conversation. Phil might find it rude if he cared at all.

“I do,” says Phil.

“So you've said.”

“But mum doesn't _get_ that.” Phil pauses in his circular complaining to finish off his drink. It's fruity and strong, for a beer, but he still wishes they'd gone out somewhere he could get a proper cocktail. It was Martyn's turn to choose a bar, so Phil just has to suck up the pubbiness of it all. A live band is playing soon, allegedly, but Phil is too deep in his own thoughts to be interested in that. 

Martyn looks up from his phone, familiar blue eyes staring into Phil's soul in a way that nobody else's can.

“Mum wants you to be happy,” says Martyn. “Not her fault you're a whore.”

“You can't say that,” Phil whines, flicking a napkin across the table at him. “It's 2019.”

With a shrug, Martyn turns his attention back to his phone. “Whatever, mate. If it's that big of a problem, just bring one of your friends to the party.”

“I can't do that,” says Phil. The fact is, he's got about four friends, and they're all either in relationships or, well, women. He can't exactly drag Bryony to Manchester with him as a shield. “She's trying to set me up, Mar, aren't you listening?”

“I'm drifting in and out,” says Martyn.

“She's trying to set me up,” Phil repeats, “with Jake Andersen.”

That gets Martyn's proper interest. He even locks his phone. “Andersen,” he says, slow like he's trying to place it, as he sips his disgusting IPA.

“Yeah, Fred and Amelia's son.”

Recognition clicks. “From Bury?”

“Yeah! Are you seeing the problem now?”

“I mean, you could just be honest with mum,” says Martyn. “You've been there, done that, broke the guy's heart in the noughties. I'm sure she'd lay off.”

“I didn't break anyone's heart,” Phil protests, but it's weak. “And I am not talking about that with mum, are you mad?”

“Phil, I know you're a private person,” Martyn says. He finally gives in and rolls his eyes. Phil is a little impressed by how long he lasted. “But if mum is trying to set you up with your ex, wouldn't it make sense to, I dunno, tell her he's your ex?”

“It's not like we actually dated. Besides, he's been telling her that he's 'excited to reconnect' with me.”

Martyn pulls a face. “Oof. Take a hint, Andersen.”

“Right?”

For a couple of minutes, Phil and his brother sit in silence. Martyn finishes off his beer and Phil stares into his empty pint glass, wishing once again that he had some hard liquor and sweetness.

“So, this band,” Martyn starts at the same time Phil says, “So here's the _thing_.”

\--

When Phil gets back to his flat, he's got a text from Martyn with a Reddit link. He expects it to be a cute dog gif or something, but instead he's met with a price chart he doesn't understand for a moment. He looks closer and reads the paragraph underneath until it clicks, and then he's laughing.

 **Good one,** he texts back. **I'm not paying some serial killer to be my fake boyfriend.**

**Then get the fuck over it and go to the party alone.**

The Reddit page is still open on Phil's phone browser when he wakes up. He makes himself some coffee and looks it over again.

He's seen these types of posts circulating before, but he'd always assumed they were jokes. After all, what type of person would pay a stranger to come to a family event and act like a significant other? What type of person would _offer_ to do that, especially over Christmas?

Then he thinks about the holiday party at his parents' and not having a shield to hide behind when he comes face to face with a guy he deliberately hasn't spoken to in a decade, and he starts looking through the comments.

\--

Phil doesn't expect to get a response to the email he sends, pre-coffee and pre-sensibility, but halfway through a particularly difficult Zelda boss, his phone chimes. 

\--

It feels like an elaborate joke. Surely, this is the start of a punchline: an awkward gay idiot with nothing to lose but his pride, sitting in Starbucks and waiting for his Reddit-assigned fake boyfriend to roll in and introduce himself.

Phil has his head ducked as he plays mindless app games and drinks his sugary frapp, because he can't keep looking at the door every time it opens like an excitable dog. He nearly upends his drink all over himself when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“Oh,” Phil says, hand flat on his chest to try and calm his racing heart. He laughs at himself and looks up. “Sorry, jeez, got lost in my own world there.”

The guy who got his attention is tall and cute, and Phil immediately thinks he's misread the situation. He probably just wanted to ask if he could take the extra chair at Phil's table, because there's no way a guy who dresses like a model for a brand Phil can't afford is the same guy who agreed to meet up and discuss Phil's holiday problem.

“That's alright,” the guy says, his smile more of a smirk. “Phil, right?”

“Yeah,” says Phil. He gestures vaguely at the chair across from him, feeling a little off-kilter. “That must make you Daniel.”

“Call me Dan.”

Dan shrugs out of his jacket and flops into the empty chair. Their legs are too long for the small table, and they both mutter apologies as their knees and ankles bump together. 

“I've never done this before,” Phil tells him, because it's important that Dan understand this.

“That's alright, most people haven't.” Dan smirk-smiles again and knocks his foot lightly against Phil's on purpose. “So, what's the story?”

“The story?”

“Yeah. Why do you need a stranger to come to Christmas with you? Everybody I've done this for has a story.”

Sufficiently distracted from the question at hand, Phil cocks his head to the side and squints a little, like maybe Dan will make more sense if he just looks harder. “I guess that makes sense,” he says. “How many people have you done this for?”

“Haven't spent a Christmas alone since 2013,” Dan says, rather proudly. “Of course, back then it was just doing favours for my friends. Now I get paid to crash parties, it's great.”

Phil isn't the most tactful person in the world, but he knows that it would be rude to ask why Dan doesn't have anything better to do. He almost asks anyway, because that's who he is as a person, but he decides that there are more pressing things at hand than Dan's apparent lack of family and friends. Maybe he is a serial killer.

“My mum's trying to set me up,” Phil explains.

“Right,” says Dan. He's nodding like he already understands, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Wants you to settle down with a nice girl, does she?”

“What? No.” Fifteen years ago, maybe. His parents have long accepted him for who he is, however rocky it might have been at the start. “They know I'm gay and don't care. No, she's trying to set me up with a nice boy who… I've already been with.”

Dan's curiosity seems piqued, if the way he leans forward is any indication. His scoop-necked jumper shows off his collarbones when he does so, and Phil is bewildered all over again about why such a hot guy does something like this instead of going home with his perfect partner for Christmas.

“So she likes your ex and wants you to get back together?”

“He's not technically my ex,” says Phil. This is harder to explain to a stranger than it had been to explain to Martyn, because Martyn already knows that Phil and commitment are un-mixy things.

“I'm confused,” Dan admits. “What's the problem?”

“His family's friends with my family,” Phil says, chewing on his lip. “And we just... fooled around when we were teenagers. But I'm, like, super not interested, and he's already told my mum that he _is_ , so I can't exactly tell her the opposite without it being a whole drama.”

“I mean, you could,” says Dan, his lips twitching. “But it's fine, you won't have to. What do you need from me?”

Phil is a little taken aback by how easy this was. It feels like he should be begging. “What?”

“Like, do you want me to try and win your mum over or do you just want me to be quiet and look pretty?” Dan asks. “Or I could be a dick to your not-ex. Whatever. Different people want different things from me.”

“I don't want you to be a dick,” Phil says immediately, knowing damn well how badly that would turn out in his family. “And please be nice to my mum, she's a good lady.”

Something in Dan's face goes gentle, and it really emphasises his soft features in a way that Phil is struggling to look away from.

“I can do that. I give good mum.”

“You seem like you would,” says Phil.

He doesn’t know why he says that. He’s weirdly nervous. This is like a job interview and a first date in one, and Phil isn’t good at either of those things. Dan grins at him over his coffee cup, though, so maybe it’s okay that he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Thanks, I’m very charming,” Dan says, all mild sarcasm and pretty dimples.

“You are,” Phil says honestly. Dan’s dimples deepen impossibly further, and he looks down at his own hands. It’s like he can’t smile like that while looking Phil in the eye. 

There’s a silence, then, that Phil itches to fill. He’s not good with quiet, especially when he’s doing something new. It’s taking every ounce of his self-control not to pull out his notebook and come up with an icebreaker on the spot. All the ones he has prepared are for when he’s stuck in groups he doesn’t know well or isn’t comfortable around, but he’s never exactly been in this specific situation before.

It turns out not to matter, because Dan looks back up at him once his genuine smile has gone back down to a small smirk. “I’m going to need some details,” he says, “and more about you, to sell it.”

“About me?” Phil repeats, lost. “There’s nothing interesting about me.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.” Dan stands up, but instead of reaching for his jacket, he takes Phil’s empty cup. “Refill?”

\--

They could have driven up to Manchester with Martyn and Cornelia, but that would require an extra two days of this nonsense. Plus, Phil would prefer to introduce Dan to his brother when they’re around other people - he knows he can’t hide from the teasing forever, but he doesn’t need to _start_ his holiday with it.

So Phil buys a couple of train tickets and meets Dan at the station. It’s that easy.

This whole thing has been strangely simple. He and Dan have been texting all week about video games and movies and the names of Phil’s family members, and the only time it felt awkward was when Phil had to ask for Dan’s account number and sort code to send him half the money they’d agreed upon. Half the money now, half later. Phil feels a bit like he’s doing something illicit instead of just paying someone to be near him for a while.

Dan is waiting for him with two coffees in his large hands and bags under his eyes. The train isn’t very early, really, but it occurs to Phil that he has no idea what Dan’s regular schedule is like.

“Oh, thank you,” Phil says, always happy to get his hands on his third coffee of the day (which, really, the first one never counts, so it’s more like the second). “I brought muffins!”

That gets Dan to crack a tired smile. “Yeah? What kind?”

“Chocolate chip?” Phil says, holding the paper bag out uncertainly. “I wasn’t really sure what you’d like and I figured that everybody likes chocolate, or they should in any case, and if you don’t like them, then I get to eat four of them myself, so it was really a selfish decision. D’you like chocolate chip?”

“I like chocolate chip,” Dan laughs and shoves the bag back towards Phil. “We can eat on the train.”

Dan doesn’t eat on the train, because he falls asleep almost immediately after they sit down. He starts out curled in the seat in a way that shouldn’t be possible, lanky as he is, and his curly head hits Phil’s shoulder sometime after Phil has polished off the third muffin.

Maybe Phil should wake him at some point, because he’s sure they’ve got more to talk about to prepare for this week, but it feels strangely comfortable to have a near stranger napping on him. He can smell Dan’s citrusy shampoo.

This is a trip Phil takes a dozen times a year on his own, so he isn’t all that worried about getting bored. 

Dan probably needs the rest. Phil looks out the window and answers emails and leaves the last muffin in case Dan wakes up. He very pointedly does not make eye contact with some of the people who come up the aisle and probably give them a Look, because it’s Christmas. Phil is allowed to act like people who are uncomfortable with him don’t exist during such a happy time of year.

At some point, closer to Manchester than not, Dan makes a small noise and shuffles closer to Phil, then further away. He tries to stretch out as best as he can and blinks sleepily over at Phil, who just smiles back at him.

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles. “Was up all night.”

“I don’t mind,” says Phil.

Dan stays a respectable distance from him, then, but he reaches into Phil’s space to search for the paper bag before his eyes are even fully open. “Mm, you leave me anything?”

“Just one,” Phil says, apologetic. “I got snacky.”

“Thanks, babe,” says Dan. When he sees whatever Phil’s expression does at the term of endearment, he rolls his pretty eyes. “You’re gonna have to get used to that, y’know. You can’t look like a fucking deer in headlights whenever I act like your boyfriend.”

“Uh,” says Phil. Very eloquent of him, he thinks. Degree in communications going well. “Well, okay, um. What should I… call you?”

“You can just call me Dan if you like,” Dan says, unwrapping the muffin. He yawns. “Or, I dunno. Whatever feels natural to you, I guess. What did you call your last boyfriend?”

Oh, right. Phil feels the blush creeping up his neck and he looks out the train window again to try and hide it. Dan isn’t even paying attention, really, too focused on waking up and inhaling a delicious muffin to care, but it’s easier for Phil to admit it when he isn’t looking Dan in the eye. “I haven’t had a boyfriend before.”

There’s a beat, and then Dan says, “Oh.”

“Or a girlfriend,” Phil adds, in case Dan thinks the gay thing is a recent development. “Not really. Nobody since secondary.”

He expects - something. Dan getting weird, or suddenly wanting to get off the train at the nearest stop, or at the very least the kind of interrogation that Phil’s friends give him every few months, but none of that happens.

Instead, Dan hums. “Babe is natural if you can do it without panicking. Or dear, if you’re old-fashioned. But it’s seriously okay if you just want to call me by my name - I don’t have to use the pet names if you don’t want me to, either.”

“Dear,” Phil tries. It doesn’t sound normal, coming out of his mouth, but Dan makes an encouraging sort of noise.

“There you are,” he says. “Also this muffin is fucking orgasmic, where did you get it?”

The topic change is clumsy, but it makes Phil laugh all the same. He turns away from the window and lets Dan guide the conversation back to something that doesn’t make Phil feel like he wants to burst out of his own skin with anxiety. He knows it isn’t normal, is the thing, but he _likes_ being single. His mum and his friends don’t understand that.

He thinks Dan might. That, or he’s a much better actor than Phil was giving him credit for.

\--

Phil had told his parents that he was bringing someone. Judging by the looks on their faces when they pick him up from the train station, they hadn’t believed him.

“Mum,” Phil exclaims happily, wrapping her up in a hug and holding tight. It’s been ages since he’s last seen her, not since Martyn’s birthday, and feeling her arms wrap around his waist always feels like coming home.

“Oh, child,” she says, warm. “What have you done?”

With a little laugh, Phil pulls back and gestures at Dan. “This is Dan. Dan, this is my mum and dad.”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Dan says, holding his hand out for Phil’s dad to shake. He seems shocked when Nigel ignores it and pulls him into a backbreaking hug. “Er.”

“We’re huggers,” Kath informs him brightly. As soon as her husband has let go of Dan, she’s giving him a proper hug as well. Phil can’t help but laugh at the look on Dan’s face. “And it’s so nice to finally meet one of Phil’s friends!”

“Mum, you’ve met Bryony and Peej a hundred times,” says Phil.

“Should I have done the air-quotes, Philip?” she teases, letting go of Dan with a soft pat on his cheek. “Come along, then, your brother’s waiting with dinner.”

Phil grins and reaches out to take Dan’s hand. Mostly, he wants to tug him back a bit and make sure that this isn’t too overwhelming, but it’s also just nice to be able to do so. Phil is a pretty touchy person, and he doesn’t think he’s ever had the opportunity to just hold a man’s hand in public.

“I told you they’re a lot,” he murmurs.

With a little huff of a laugh, Dan squeezes his hand. “They’re lovely,” he says. “I guess I didn’t expect to be so… welcomed. Y’know.”

Phil does know. “I also told you they’re fine with me being gay,” he reminds Dan.

“I know you did,” says Dan. “I just… dunno. Sometimes people say that and don’t really mean it. Or they say it and they think they mean it, but then they come face to face with it and suddenly it’s not so easy to ignore.”

“As far as I can tell, they seem to mean it,” says Phil. He’d kind of had - a suspicion, about Dan, one of those deep-seated instinctive _feelings_ , but it’s nice to have confirmation. 

“That’s good,” Dan says, holding tight to Phil’s hand like he doesn’t want him to let go. Phil wonders how much of that is Dan, and how much of it is the character of Phil’s Boyfriend. He also can’t help but wonder if this is one of the reasons that Dan doesn’t go home for Christmas. That wouldn’t exactly be a polite thing to ask, but he can’t help thinking about it.

“My brother will probably figure out who you are, like, immediately,” Phil thinks to say, swinging their hands a bit as they walk. It feels silly to do, but in a good way. Dan’s dimple is appearing again, in any case. “He sent me the link.”

Dan cackles. “Seriously? Your family is so _nosy_ , babe.”

“You haven’t seen the first of it,” Phil warns him.

It’s too late for Dan to back out now, really, but it’s still somewhat surprising that he just shrugs.

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse,” says Dan. They’re almost caught up to Phil’s parents now, waiting by the car, so he drops his voice. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Trust me, this isn’t so bad.”

Phil privately thinks that Dan hasn’t played Scrabble with them and can’t possibly know that this isn’t the worst of the bunch yet, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s paying Dan to be here, he can deal with the competition and prying questions. 

\--

Martyn doesn’t laugh in Phil’s face when he introduces Dan as his boyfriend, which Phil is secretly very impressed by.

“Alright?” Martyn asks, nodding at Dan.

“I’m alright, yeah,” Dan says with clear relief. “I guess you’re not a hugger.”

“Did you want a hug?”

Dan hesitates like he can’t tell if Martyn is joking or not. Phil doesn’t help him. 

“No,” he says slowly. Then he adds, “Thank you?”

“Your loss, and all,” Martyn says dryly. He gives Phil a flat sort of stare, and Phil grins sheepishly back at him. “I hope you know how stupid this is, mate.”

“I’ve got some idea,” says Phil.

The alternative still seems worse. He can picture it way too easily, his mum and Mrs. Andersen flitting about and trying to get Phil and Jake to talk to each other despite them having next to nothing in common aside from the gay thing. It would be awkward enough without the history between them, honestly.

Besides, he can’t quite bring himself to regret sending that email. Dan is standing in his childhood kitchen with an absent sort of smile and curls damp with snow, and Phil thinks that’s probably worth the stupidity. 

\--

“So, Dan,” Nigel starts over dinner. “What do you do for a living?”

Phil realises that he doesn’t actually know the answer to that question, unless Dan somehow gets a living wage from acting like he’s dating complete strangers.

Dan pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. He looks strangely nervous, and Phil has a moment of absolute panic that Dan _is_ about to say he gets paid to date losers like Phil. “Er,” he says, letting his fork drop back to his plate. “I’m a comedian, actually.”

He gives Phil an apologetic sort of look, like maybe he would have come up with something better if Phil had asked. Phil just smiles back at him and squeezes his knee under the table. It’s not like his parents are the type to ask him and Martyn when they’re bringing a doctor home. They’d given up on Martyn a long time ago, and given up on Phil for different reasons altogether. He’s pretty sure they’d be thrilled to have Dan here even if he said he was a circus clown.

“That’s nice, dear,” Kath says. “Do you do stand-up?”

Something in Dan’s shoulders relax, and he smiles. “Sometimes, yeah. I do some writing for other people, as well, and videos online.”

“Very cool,” Cornelia chimes in. She sends Dan one of those bright, angelic smiles of hers that Phil knows firsthand are great at chasing away negativity. He wonders if Dan feels the same sort of tension easing, considering she’s a stranger to him. “You seem like a performer.”

Phil chokes on his wine. Dan honks.

“It’s the attention hog in me,” he jokes. “My teachers always said I wanted people to look at me more than I wanted to do my times tables.”

“Sounds about right,” Phil teases. He’s known Dan for a little under a week, but he has absolutely noticed that he likes being in the spotlight far more than Phil himself does. Even when he’s just talking to Phil, his hands gesticulate like there’s a wider audience and his laugh can be heard from space.

“Hey,” Dan says, his lips twitching. “Don’t make fun of me, I’m in primo position to get dirt on _you_ in school.”

“I was fine!”

“You were a prick,” Martyn informs him. Phil kicks out at him under the table.

“Shut up, Mar.”

“Were?” Cornelia asks, faux-innocent and soft-spoken. Phil won’t kick her, but he does give her his best wounded eyes. “Oh, come now, I’m sure you were both pricks.”

“Mum,” Phil whines. He hears Dan laugh again, a quiet sort of giggle that sounds like he tried to hold it back, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. “Are you even listening? Martyn’s calling me a prick.”

As she pours gravy on her potatoes, Kath just nods. “Aye, so he is. Does anyone else want the gravy?”

Dan giggles again, and Phil is sort of beaming at his plate as he pretends to sulk, and the conversation moves onto Cornelia’s travel plans. It feels familiar and new all at the same time, and when Dan reaches for his hand under the table, Phil’s heart might stutter a bit.

\--

The guest room is suggested and rejected as an option in such quick succession that Phil can’t even remember who said what, and now he’s got Dan wandering around his childhood bedroom looking at all the terrible design choices. He’s still got the same terrible carpet and wallpaper, the same collection of photographs and magazine cutouts, the same pile of stuffed animals that he hadn’t brought with him to London.

“They’re not really the type to change things,” Phil feels the need to explain. “I promise my flat looks better than this.”

“It would have to,” Dan teases, but it’s gentle.

“You don’t actually have to sleep here,” Phil says. “Or I don’t have to.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” says Dan, and the easy statement rings so true that it’s hard for Phil to argue with. He tucks his legs under himself from his perch on the bed and watches as Dan inspects the trinkets on his desk. “I really like your family, Phil.”

“They’re great people.”

Dan hums in agreement. “Not sure where they went wrong with you.”

Surprised into laughter, Phil tosses a pillow in Dan’s direction. It only grazes him, but the intent is there. “Oi, actually shut up.”

The withering sort of look that Dan gives him as he picks up the pillow makes Phil laugh again. He’s still trying to control the giggles when Dan shoves the pillow in his face, knocking him onto his back with a squeal of a noise. Someone knocks on the wall, and Phil has to cover his face with both hands to stop louder laughter from pealing out.

“It’s not that late, is it?” Dan asks, his tone hushed anyway. Phil wants to point out that it’s actually gone ten, and most people don’t take three hour naps in the middle of the day, but he’s pretty sure the knock wasn’t for that.

“No, Mar’s just,” Phil starts, waving his hands around to try and explain without words. He doesn’t bother sitting back up, because his adolescent bed is as comfortable as it’s always been. He feels it dip when Dan sits beside him, but he doesn’t bother looking away from the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. “It sounds rude. He’s telling us to quiet down if we’re going to fuck.”

The honk of a laugh comes out of Dan’s mouth again, and Phil grins sheepishly over at him.

“Imagine,” says Dan, his dimples back in full force. He’s a lot closer than Phil thought he’d be. “The absolute gumption required to fuck while your family is here.”

Phil doesn’t really appreciate that. Now he’s imagining it. He rolls his eyes so that Dan won’t be able to tell that he’s blushing, a bit. “Well, I dunno,” he says, knocking back on the wall in a pattern to be annoying. “I wouldn’t do it now. Like, as an adult.”

There’s a beat of quiet, and then Dan lightly smacks his chest. “You’ve had sex with your family in the house, you weirdo?”

“Didn’t have much of a choice when I was younger, did I,” Phil snorts, shoving at Dan.

“You could have… not done that.”

“And what did you do?” Phil asks, trying to sound more teasing than curious. Because he is, a little bit. “When you lived with your parents, I mean. Did you just wait ‘til they left?”

Dan huffs and toys with his sleeves. His cheek has a red spot forming on it, and Phil wonders if he’s blushing or if it’s just the wine kicking in. “No, I wasn’t having sex when I lived with my parents. It was a non-issue.”

It’s the sort of thing that Phil could probably push and prod for more details on, if he wanted. It’s an easy opening to finding out more about Dan’s family, his relationship history, that sort of thing. Dan hasn’t exactly been secretive - Phil bets that all he’d have to do is ask, and Dan would tell him some form of the truth.

But honestly, it’s late, and Phil is tired from the train journey and roast dinner. So he just stretches out, sits up, pats Dan’s leg. “Gonna get my contacts out.”

\--

Phil can’t remember the last time he woke up tangled with someone else’s limbs and didn’t feel the sharp discomfort of needing to escape as soon as possible. It takes him a moment to remember where he is and whose arms are wrapped around him, but as soon as his tired brain reconnects the dots, he just sighs and curls closer. Dan is warm and soft and cuddly, which are all things Phil would have on a wish list for a real boyfriend.

You know. If he wanted one.

\--

The holiday party is the same as it is every year. His mum makes enough cakes to feed an army, his dad digs out his favourite vinyls, and Martyn sneaks to the garden with Cornelia as soon as their parents are distracted by guests. Phil makes a nuisance of himself as always, taste-testing his mum’s baking and arguing over records with his dad. Normally, he’d go outside with Martyn and chat at him about nonsense until Martyn threw something at his head, because that’s a tradition as much as the rest of it, but this year he’s got someone on his arm.

That feels weird enough on its own. Phil is out to his family, but it seems like some of them have forgotten in the years since it first became news. They’re all nice enough to Dan, but there are some wide eyes and whispers that Phil could have gone without. The neighbours and family friends are more polite about it.

Dan doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe, more accurately, doesn’t seem to mind. He’s in his element, talking with his hands and laughing at bad jokes and remembering people’s names. His all-black outfit looks expensive and fits him so well that Phil’s eyes have wandered a few times throughout the evening. His curls have some kind of product in them to make them less frizzy, and Phil keeps reminding himself that it’s rude to reach out and touch someone’s hair in company to see if it’s still as soft.

At a few points, Dan catches his eye and smiles. It’s that genuine one, the one that he couldn’t look at Phil with in Starbucks, and it makes Phil weak at the knees every single time.

“What?” Dan asks, quiet, as the conversation around them turns to one of his cousins graduating. 

“What?” Phil parrots back.

Dan’s smirking again, now, but his eyes are sparkling with a kind of warmth that Phil wants to curl up in. He doesn’t seem like he’s making fun of Phil at all. “Just noticed that you’ve been staring. Have I got something in my teeth?”

“No,” says Phil. He can feel a flush creeping up his neck and painting his skin red. Dan sways a little closer. “No, I just... you look really nice, dear.”

It feels more natural this time, and Dan gives him an encouraging sort of grin. Their fingers are suddenly linked, but Phil couldn’t tell which of them reached for the other first if you paid him. Dan opens his big mouth to say something.

“There you are,” his mum’s voice interrupts them. Phil turns, keeping his hand firmly in Dan’s.

“Here I am,” Phil agrees. His stomach is twisting in anxiety, because she’s got the Andersens with her. Fred and Amelia give him familiar smiles and wishes for happy holidays, but Jake looks about as annoyed as Phil has ever seen him. As Phil is listening to Amelia and his mum chat about some story he’s half forgotten, he leans further into Dan’s warm, steady space.

The adults disappear for more drinks after a couple of minutes - and isn’t it funny that Phil still thinks of them as that, when he’s past thirty himself? - and suddenly Phil doesn’t remember how to breathe.

After an extremely awkward moment of quiet, Dan smiles and sticks his free hand out. “Alright, mate?” he says, and Phil wonders at the fact that he can _tell_ when Dan is pretending now. He hasn’t looked or sounded like this the entire time he’s been holed up with Phil’s family. “I’m Dan.”

“Are you,” Jake says, flat. He pointedly doesn’t shake Dan’s hand.

“Well, okay,” says Dan. A chilly sort of edge has crept into his voice, and he squeezes Phil’s hand so tightly that it kind of hurts. “You wanna go catch up with Martyn, babe?”

“Sure,” Phil manages to say without squeaking. He hates confrontation so bloody much, and he just wants to get out of this situation as soon as he can. He feels a deep gratitude to Dan for picking up on that so fast. “Nice to see you, Jake.”

Judging from the look on his face, Jake wants to say something biting and personal and passive-aggressive. Before he can, though, Dan is tugging Phil away without any further niceties. Dan is surprisingly strong, and determined, and Phil is giggling and trying not to trip over his feet by the time they make it outside.

Martyn is further away from the house, lying in the snow with Cornelia and passing something lit back and forth, but Dan doesn’t drag him all the way over to them.

“What a cunt,” Dan says, and Phil is shocked enough by the curse to laugh. “You seriously dated that guy?”

“No,” Phil giggles. The air is cold through his thin jumper, and he moves closer to Dan. Their hands are still entwined, and if he leaned in just a little bit more, he’d probably be able to feel the warmth of Dan’s chest against his own. “I hooked up with that guy. He’s mad I didn’t like him enough to keep him.”

Dan smiles, a little reluctantly. “That makes sense. You’re a bit of a catch.”

“Me?” Phil snorts. He waves a hand to indicate their situation as a whole. “I know I’m paying you to be nice to me, but come off it. I’m a noncommittal, socially awkward introvert who would rather be at home playing Zelda right now.”

“Yeah,” says Dan. “I know.”

They’re very close. Phil can see the freckles across Dan’s cheeks in the light from the kitchen windows, spilling outside.

“Hey,” Phil says, quiet and more than a little nervous. He doesn’t think he’ll get laughed at or anything, but he could still be let down gently. “We’re still gonna be here for a couple of days, and all, but… when we get back to London, did you want to… go for dinner? Sometime? Without me paying for it? Well - okay, I mean, I’ll pay for dinner, but -”

“I’d like to,” Dan interrupts him, his dimples impossibly deep and his free hand resting on Phil’s hip. Phil is glad that he doesn’t have a visual of that, right now, because Dan’s hands are very large and that is very distracting. “I’d really like to.”

**Author's Note:**

> my regular betas (cat and chicken) are wonderful for babysitting this through to the end. thank you both so much <333333


End file.
